


Get Me Through The Night

by WolfOfAnsbach



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Dreams, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, cheryl blossom needs to be loved and protected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfOfAnsbach/pseuds/WolfOfAnsbach
Summary: After Cheryl's suicide attempt, Veronica invites Cheryl to stay with her at Pembrooke as long as she needs to. Over time, they end up sharing the same bed. Cheryl has trouble sleeping. A lot of trouble, in fact. Veronica does what she can to help her through it.





	Get Me Through The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt:
> 
> After Cheryl's suicide attempt, Veronica refuses to leave Cheryl's side unless necessary. She insists that Cheryl stay with her, despite their mothers' disapproval. Over time, they share a bed and Veronica finds out that Cheryl loves to cuddle and wrap herself around her through the night. Neither of them really talk about it, but it doesn't stop it from happening.

Veronica Lodge has discovered the two faces of Cheryl Blossom. She wonders if anyone else knows they’re there. With Jason dead, she doubts it, for Veronica’s fairly certain that Cheryl herself doesn’t know.

One of the faces is the one that the world at large identifies as ‘Cheryl Blossom’. It’s the haughty, vain cheer captain with the sharp tongue always ready to dispense another insult, another witty put-down. The bourgeois princess who considers the common folk dirt beneath her polished pumps, Riverdale’s very own Marie Antoinette. That’s the first face everyone sees, and it’s the one that’s made her as despised as she is feared, and responsible for the sad irony that despite her status Cheryl has no real friends, only acolytes and underlings.

It’s only because Veronica could identify and sympathize with that brutal character that she was ever able to push past it and recognize the second face hidden beneath. After all, unlike most kids she knows what it’s like to be the loved and hated queen at the top of the social hierarchy. And because of that, she knows that such figures are more than the caricature they present to their friends and peers. Knows that there’s more underneath. That there’s a human underneath. That there’s a human underneath the red storm known as Cheryl Blossom.

That one is a frightened, lonely girl desperate for validation and affection. An injured child who’d had the only person to ever show her real love cruelly torn away. And torn away by her own father of all people. Because, yes, she’s been hideously damaged and abused by her mother and father. By the very people who were supposed to cherish and protect and love her. How could anyone expect her to be kind when all she’d ever known was unkindness?

And the greatest tragedy of it all is that Veronica isn’t even sure Cheryl knows that piece of her exists. Because it can make itself known only when the girl’s conscious mind isn’t there to suppress it. When she sleeps.

Veronica asks Cheryl to stay with her not believing for a moment she’d ever say yes, but hoping she would because the thought of the Blossom girl making another bid at suicide is terrifying, and the only way she can try to keep her from doing that is by staying at her side.

When she says: “Cheryl, you can stay as long as you need to, you know.” She expects the response to be something like “No thanks, I’m not accustomed to such cramped living space.”

Instead, Cheryl pauses for a moment, and falls into silence. Then finally, in a quiet voice, she asks: “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Your mom-“

“Forget my mom!” Then she smiles one of those devilish smiles only girls like them can do just right. “If anything, her being pissed off is a bonus.”

So Cheryl stays at Pembrooke, despite the misgivings of both their mothers, and Veronica gets the feeling Cheryl is just as glad to defy the Blossom matriarch as Veronica is to thumb her nose at Hermione. It’s a bit awkward at first. Cheryl’s not used to the kindness, either dispensing or receiving it, and it shows.

But the saddest moments are when she sleeps. The first night, Veronica invites Cheryl into her room. They sit on her bed, and talk about anything and everything they can think of, Veronica fighting mightily to keep the mind of her guest (friend?) off of the nightmare of the past few months. They talk about Archie and Jughead and Betty and fashion and books and clothes and movies and politics and school and childhood and not about murder or betrayal or misery. Neither ever says ‘time for bed’, they simply wind down as the night draws on, laying their heads on pillows and letting yawns punctuate their sentences.

Cheryl finally falls asleep at about 3:00 in the morning and it takes Veronica a moment to acclimate to the sudden silence. She looks the girl asleep on her bed over and realizes she might be even more beautiful asleep then awake, with her brilliant red hair and classically lovely face and slim waist and long legs all still and silent in repose, save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Veronica feels a sudden urge to reach out and touch her, whether her hair or her skin, to see if she can disrupt the statuesque perfection of this sleeping beauty. She suppresses it.

She finally falls asleep herself at about 4:00 and wakes up an hour later with Cheryl Blossom’s arm around her. Veronica is suddenly driven both toremove it and to leave it there. Eventually the latter impulse wins out. Cheryl has moved considerably closer to her in her sleep, an arm slung over Veronica’s waist, a head nestled into the crook of her neck, and a leg sneaking its way between her own. She looks so peaceful and so content that it would take a truly heartless monster to push her away.

The pattern repeats itself night after night as Cheryl’s stay at Pembrook extends into the foreseeable future and even Hermione Lodge seems to resign herself to it. There’s never any formal agreement that Cheryl will share Veronica’s bed, but it just sort of…happens, decided upon by the two girls without a single word passed between them. This of course despite Hermione’s daily reminder that the guest room is open and welcoming.

Eventually, Cheryl becomes comfortable enough to undress before bed. She doesn’t even warn her the first time. They’re talking about-something. Veronica, understandably, can’t remember what it was later, because the sudden sight of Cheryl Blossom stripping off her top and then skirt right in front of her is a bit overwhelming. Suddenly, she’s standing half-naked in some very expensive, very frilly underclothes right in the middle of Veronica’s room and Veronica’s just sort of…staring.

She has a bit of trouble getting to sleep that night (though Cheryl doesn’t). Veronica lays awake as Cheryl quickly falls into a deep slumber. As soon as the redhead is out, Veronica begins to notice that she’s something of a fitful sleeper. Cheryl tosses and turns. She kicks. Her lips twist and her hands curl into tight little fists. Sometimes, she almost looks pained. The moon rides high in the sky, and Veronica Lodge is entirely fixated on the unconscious torments of her bedmate.

Cheryl gasps and moans, as if she’s been hurt. Instinctively, Veronica reaches out. She puts her arms around Cheryl’s slim waist and pulls her a little closer.

“Hey.” She whispers, hoping that Cheryl won’t awaken, but that her words might be of comfort even in sleep. “It’s alright.”

As soon as Cheryl is in Veronica’s arms, the tossing subsides. She calms considerably, and quickly. Her breathing stabilizes, slow and steady now rather than sharp and heavy. Still in a deep sleep, Cheryl unconsciously returns her friend’s embrace, sliding an arm over Veronica’s hips. The ginger rests her head upon Veronica’s chest, and lets out a little sigh of contentment. It’s really quite cute.

Veronica can’t help but notice that Cheryl’s hair smells more than pleasant. She takes a quick, purposeful whiff, before deciding that’s a bit creepy. She makes a mental note to ask what sort of shampoo Cheryl uses in the morning.

The rest of the night is rather peaceful, and Veronica finally falls asleep to the gentle tempo of Cheryl’s quiet breathing.

They don’t talk much at school the next day, and Veronica wonders if Cheryl was even semi-conscious for any of the previous evening. She wouldn’t dream of asking of course, as she watches in wonder while the frightened, affection-starved girl from her bed transforms into the terrible, imperious captain of the River Vixens.

* * *

 

Tonight is worse than before. 

Cheryl falls asleep without trouble, but soon spirals into another bout of thrashing and writhing. Veronica waits for it to subside. Instead, it intensifies. Cheryl’s breathing becomes shallow and pained. She lets out strangled, pained little gasps. More like sobs.

“Jason.” She chokes out in the throes of her unknown nightmare. “Wait…wait…no…no…no…Jason!” Cheryl cries, almost screaming. Suddenly, she’s awake. Terrified, gasping, panicking. She bolts upright, tears springing from her great brown eyes. Veronica starts in shock.

“Hey, hey, hey! It’s okay!” She grabs hold of Cheryl, struggling to keep her in place and calm the poor girl down. She’s still hyperventilating, her entire body shaking with sobs. Veronica looks into her eyes and sees more agony and pain than she would have ever thought possible. Veronica throws her arms around Cheryl Blossom and holds her and lets her tears soak through the thin material of her nightshirt. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” Cheryl manages through sobs.

“What?” Veronica asks, voice as gentle and soft as she can manage.

“He’s still gone, isn’t he?”

Veronica finds herself, to her amazement, struggling to hold back her own tears as she meets Cheryl’s pained gaze. She feels the warmth of Cheryl’s body against hers and the rapid drum-drum beat of her heart. She wants nothing more than to alleviate her misery and it hurts when she realizes that she’s powerless.

“Yes. I’m so, so sorry.”

And Veronica Lodge does what pitifully little she can to take just a little bit of Cheryl Blossom’s suffering onto her own shoulders.


End file.
